


I Won't Sleep Heavy Tonight

by rainbowballz



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 03:33:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8040868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowballz/pseuds/rainbowballz
Summary: Nog has a nightmare about losing his remaining leg and Jake, bless him, tries to cheer his boyfriend up.





	I Won't Sleep Heavy Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deathstar510](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathstar510/gifts).



> My lovely friend Deathstar510 sent me a drabble request for Jake/Nog cuddles and it turned into whatever the fuck this thing is. I got so carried away. God bless.

His father would be the first to say that Jake could sleep through a star gone supernova, so long as the surface he found himself sprawled upon was horizontal. Darkness wasn’t necessary, or even silence - after living in space stations for most of his life, Jake had grown accustomed to the hum of various machinery all around him. After all, silence in space often meant danger.

Once Nog moved in it was something that he and Benjamin often joked about, the onerous task of getting Jake up in the morning. Nog was out of bed at the first sound of his alarm, breakfast consumed and half a workout in before Jake so much as showed any sign of life.

“He could sleep through a Klingon invasion if it suited him,” Nog would tease, grinning every one of his sharp teeth at Jake across the table.

Benjamin would laugh, raise his glass over a home cooked meal, and smile knowingly and fondly at the Ferengi. “Getting him up is your job, now.”

Nog would roll his eyes but they all knew there any annoyance he showed wasn’t genuine; waking Jake up in the mornings was a worthy trade for sleeping with him at night, among other things (though this wasn’t something either brought up at the dinner table with Captain Sisko present).

There was certainly nothing that Jake could complain about. He was getting the best sleep of his life these days. Nog was like a personal space heater under DS Nine’s standard issue blankets, and Jake found that his most comfortable position was wrapped snugly around the Ferengi as the ‘big spoon’ - this was a human idiom he’d had to explain to Nog more than once. When Nog protested to being the ‘little’ spoon ( “You’re only giving me that title because you’re the size of a _tree_ ” ), Jake offered to switch places for a night, but it wasn’t long until Nog was pushing Jake around and burrowing into his arms again, content.

It was like that where they would fall asleep together, wound around the other like twine, until Nog’s alarm pulled him out of bed and Jake would flop over the warm space he had occupied. The smell of Nog was a poor substitute for the real thing but for a few more hours of sleep, he could settle. The time between was usually quiet except for their breathing and the infinite spinning of the station.

And sometimes there was just barely audible Ferengi whimpering in the darkness. Soft whispers of distress hardly loud enough to be heard over the mechanical whirring in the station’s walls.

Jake’s eyes snapped open, hurtled out of unconsciousness at such a rapid speed that it felt physical, like he’d fallen from some great height. For a moment he lie there blinking in the blackness, confused, until - there, again. Breathing, just a little more rapid than normal, and the tiniest sound of discomfort coming from underneath the blanket at his side.

Jake rolled onto his side toward the lump beside him. Nog was sufficiently buried under the blanket, something he used to be embarrassed about - Ferengi tend to sleep better completely covered as Jake understood, a lingering trait left behind by their ancestors who hid to stay safe. As Jake’s eyes adjusted to the dark he could make out the curve of Nog’s spine curled into a tight ball, wracked by the slightest tremors.

Flattening one large hand across the space of where he estimated Nog’s mid-back to be, Jake leaned forward, using his nose to trace the back of Nog’s head through the blanket. He felt for the shape of Nog’s ear and followed the arc of his lobe across the fabric.

“Nog,” he said, as quietly as he could manage, knowing that even a whisper this close to a Ferengi ear might as well be shouting. “Baby. Wake up.”

There was no response. Nog’s whimpers continued to climb in volume until he was moaning in what could only be interpreted as pain, as if something were in the bed with him, hurting him.

Jake reached up and began to peel back the blankets. This only served to escalate Nog’s imaginary panic; he started to flail, limbs flying under the blanket.

“No!” Nog cried, landing a closed fist into Jake’s bottom lip. “Don’t touch me, I won’t let you cut it off -!”

“Nog!” Jake sat up now, hands wrapped tightly around Nog’s slim shoulders, and gave him a good shake. “Nog, wake up!”

He did, violently, arms still swinging, releasing a high-pitched screech only a Ferengi could manage. Blue eyes flickered open, spinning wildly as they struggled to take in all of his surroundings, assessed any possible danger, and taking in Jake’s face hovering above him. Whatever nightmare he’d been staring into a moment before gave way to reality and Nog collapsed with his head back into the mattress. At some point, the pillow had been knocked completely clear of the bed.

“My leg,” Nog gasped, his hands curling into tight fists in Jake’s shirt front. “My leg, they were going to cut it off -”

“Nog, breathe.” Jake reached down and cupped his hand around Nog’s left thigh. “This is your new leg, it’s still here.”

“Not that one,” Nog said. He pushed Jake aside and kicked off the remaining blankets, grabbing his right leg at the knee. He bent it experimentally, as if he expected it to pop right off. After several moments he became still, staring at his bent leg, his only movement his slowly leveling breathing. Jake watched as Nog closed his eyes and turned away in shame, embarrassment.

“Hey.” Jake reached out and curled a finger under Nog’s chin. Nog refused at first, so Jake used both hands to steer the Ferengi’s face back around. “It’s alright. It was just a dream.”

Nog huffed, frustrated, but he turned his cheek into Jake’s touch and closed his eyes. “It’s stupid. Childish.”

“I have nightmares, too. My dad has them all the time. Do you think we’re stupid and childish?”

Eyes open again, Nog sighed, rubbing his palm on his right leg. Jake watched his fingers flex, nails digging briefly into his flesh, and then releasing again, as if testing that it was in fact his own.

“Something awful happened to you. It’s going to be a part of you forever.” Jake frowned when Nog pulled away from him, sitting with his back against the headboard, knees drawn to his chest. He followed, sitting beside him, allowing both of his legs to stretch across the bed. “I still have dreams about the day my mom died. I probably will for the rest of my life. That’s the shitty thing about trauma. It doesn’t go away entirely. Not ever.”

“You’re really bad at cheering people up,” Nog mumbled, words partially muffled by his arm.

Jake shrugged. “It’s just realistic. I wish someone had told me that back then. That it’s normal if it still bothers you. For a long time I thought I was doing something wrong, like I wasn’t moving on properly. But that’s not it. When really awful things happen to you, they stay with you. And that’s okay.” He slowly moved an arm around Nog’s waist, giving him time to reject the touch if he wanted, but thankfully Nog turned into it, tucking into Jake’s chest. Jake hooked his other arm under Nog’s knees and pulled them across his lap so Nog was cradled to him like a baby. He kissed the bald globe of Nog’s head. “The good things stick with you always, too.”

Nog snorted a weak laugh. “You’re so corny.”

“I’m a writer. It’s what I do.” Jake rubbed his hand up and down Nog’s leg in a slow, even rhythm. “Nothing is going to happen to your other leg.”

“You don’t know that.”

Jake hesitated. “True. But, like … the odds of it happening again are pretty slim.”

A beat. Nog pulled back and looked incredulously into Jake’s eyes. “You are really, really bad at cheering people up.” But there was a smile on his face, crinkling his eyes. “The worst, actually. Besides, it’s easy for you to not worry about something happening to your legs. You’re, like, eighty percent leg. If anything happened, you’d have plenty left over.”

“Well … you’re eighty percent _ear_ ,” Jake laughed, and Nog shook his head and gathered his human’s face in both hands and kissed him.

Jake held him close and not for the first time felt a surge of over protectiveness flood through him, making him never want to let go of Nog ever again. Look at the things that happened to him when he did?

Night crawled on and sleep beckoned to them once again, pulling them back under the blankets, arms around each other, legs entwined. In the morning, Nog would get up and potentially risk his life - again - because that’s what Starfleet officers do. And because of that, there might be more and more nights like this one.

Jake didn’t care if it was every night for the rest of his life. He’d always wake up. He’d stay awake all night if he had to.

But for now, they sleep.


End file.
